Xtacy
by Revolutionaire
Summary: "Kaname…" Zero began, but the anger in his voice was lost as a pair of perfect pink lips met his in a desperate kiss.


_Reviews are, as always are very much appreciated!_

_**Xtacy**_

Chapter 1 – Bang

**ARUNDHATI **waited. She was standing against one of the large stone pillars in the airport, watching them. All the little ants; stupid, pitiful, dirty ants scrambling around the rotting place they called home. They whirred by her, not even noticing her. Stupid, stupid things. They hardly even registered she was there.

If you were smart enough, you would notice, she reckoned. The way she stood, tensely, her eyes flicking back and forth across the scene. Yes, if you were smart. But people here were horribly unintelligent, and so they didn't notice. It wasn't their entire fault. She had perfected the art of surveillance so well that she almost wasn't there. She had this uncanny way of sort of blending into the scenery no matter where she was; provided that the people were dumb enough not to notice her.

And that was America. New York, in fact. One of Arundhati's favourite places. She hated America, and anything affiliated with it, but she had to give this place credit. It was a buzzing metropolis, humming with life and light; a sort of odd beauty. A beauty that reminded her of the dusty grandeur of her hometown.

But this was a very different sort of beauty – loud and brash; it was the city that never slept; the 'big apple' waiting for her to take a bite. And she was starving. She would pluck that red, ripe, crooked apple and tear it off its tree of evil. And then she would swallow it whole.

The airport was vibrant with life that afternoon. Arundhati almost had a hard time following him. He had put a lot of time into this. Carefully made sure the plans were perfect; the disguises infallible. This man; this very masculine man had even attentively applied light tinted makeup to his face that morning. He had dyed his hair and his beard and had bought new clothes for them to wear – she herself was wearing all American things now. They were ugly, ugly things but she had not put up any struggle when he had asked her to put them on.

She too had applied makeup that morning, and dyed her hair that horrible shade of blonde he had bought. She'd helped him with his contacts and then put in hers. They'd eaten breakfast together, and now together, they were going bomb them. She was going to kill them. And so was her father. This brave, beautiful man was going to die today and she was here to make sure he did it right.

The deaths, at first they were confusing, and then, without her even noticing, they became a sense of normalcy. She wasn't sure if she should be pleased by the work that Al Qaeda had done or whether she should be repulsed by it. Americans were these dirty, filthy things. They should be killed, right? This job was protecting her people, poor innocent people of the Middle East that she loved.

The only question that remained was whether they were different or not. Were these light-skinned blonde idiots so horrible? Were they deserving of their deaths? Arundhati didn't know. Maybe she would never know. But she would be proud, no matter what. They, together, had accomplished something. Her and her father would leave a legacy, and whether good or bad, it would be remembered by all.

The Twin Towers affair had only been the tip of the iceberg. On a scale of grandeur, it was pitiful. Not elegant or beautiful, just terrifying. Something to shock the Americans, a foretaste of the horror that was to come. Today.

The Taliban had dubbed this the 'Domino' affair; for obvious reasons. Al Qaeda had made a domino chain. They had placed a string of bombs, all interconnected, starting over near the Statue of Liberty and then making its way down the streets, cities and towns, all across the United States, until the line of bombs retracted from the edges of the country and reached a final detonator at the White House. It was a very intricate design, a chain reaction sort of thing; all timed for maximum effect. The trigger bomb, the one that was placed near the Statue of Liberty, set out a mechanical signal across a thin wire that connected all of the bombs together, letting the next attacker know it was time to explode. They worked with a sophisticated precision, each signal going across yards in seconds.

Once her father's plane hit the trigger bomb, the people of New York would have approximately 3 minutes before their city was devastated; and then the next state, and the next, death splitting and snaking its way down the country. Until the finally the serpent joined together for one last strike, the largest of all the bombs going off at the President's house itself.

Arundhati had dreamed about that moment more times that she could count. Her father, diving his beautiful bird of steel into the ground, crashing and burning as the first of the bombs went off. She dreamed of his face, his beautiful, strong face in the wreckage, crying out to her. And she would reach out to touch it, to hold it against her comfortingly. Her father would push her away and he would tell her - there was no time for love in this forsaken place. And it was his fault. He had triggered it.

She imagined the string of explosions, bursting out from underneath the ground until they went silent, and then, after they thought it was over, when the President thought he had been saved, BANG! Blood and fire everywhere: the last shreds of hope the people had torn away from them with this one final manoeuvre.

This night, it was supposed to be something beautiful and wonderful and new. A fresh new year awaiting the sin-ridden people of America. A chance to start anew. And maybe this was. Maybe Arundhati was taking the sin away from them, stripping them of evil and levelling out the ground for new, brighter civilization to be built.

She knew it was not true, however. Without a president and with the whole of America devastated completely, the last remainders of the country (if there even were any) would be in panic. And then Al Qaeda would take over, detonating the whole country again and again until it was a barren wasteland, starting anew with a sinless Islam leader and beauty.

New Year's of 2027 was going off with a bang.

**"HOW WAS** your steak?"

Ichiru looked up from his phone and sighed. "Fine," he answered. He looked at his brother quizzically. "Why are you making small talk now? You hardly said a word at dinner."

"Whatever."

Ichiru sighed and looked back down at his phone again. There was a long pause until Zero hesitantly spoke again.

"You know the doctor told you not to eat meat for another week while the medicine sits, Ichiru."

"Zero, please. I don't want to talk about that now."

"I know, but I paid a lot for that shit and I don't want you ruining it with a piece of steak."

"It doesn't matter. And anyways, that wasn't technically meat."

Zero raised an eyebrow at his twin.

"And how would that be?"

"Well…" There was a large pause. "I don't know! Can we just wait here without another goddamned argument?"

"I paid a ton of money for this, and for you to just wreck it like that is really selfish, Ichiru."

"Zero…You know, I don't even know why we're having this conversation. It's a mute point and you're just looking to start another argument."

Zero glared at him.

"Can we please just talk about something other than sickness for once?"

"Well since you keep blatantly ignoring it…"

"I'm not ignoring it! But its New Year's Eve and I just want to enjoy myself."

"You enjoy yourself every day," Zero muttered.

"I do not! I finally got that job you bothered me about for so long. I'm helping!"

"Helping is not calling me to come bail your drunk ass off a street corner in Queens."

"At least I keep my ass to myself," Ichiru shot.

Zero glared at him again.

"Are you going to work tonight?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I don't really have anything else to do and it's double pay tonight," Ichiru sighed.

"Fine. I think I'll be home at about six, so you'll have to let yourself in."

"Alright," Ichiru said. A few moments passed and he looked down at his watch. "I think I should get going. I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Zero said, watching as he walked down the street. There was no point in rehashing his argument now. And it was about time for him to be getting to work anyways. The club would open in half an hour. It was stupid to be late for work because of some argument about a piece of meat.

Zero lit up a cigarette and walked into the parking lot, clicking on his key chain to locate the car. It chirped quietly and Zero walked briskly towards it. He looked around warily, trying to detect any possible muggers that could be around. The Bronx wasn't exactly the best place to be at night. Deciding that muggers were nowhere to be found, he quickly got in, turning the key in the ignition and driving towards the club.

It was times like these when he felt the most happy. Just driving down these deserted streets in the glow of the city lights, smoking a cigarette and just…thinking. It brought him this lonely sort of comfort, it was the city's way of letting him know that it was there, that he was not without hope. That no matter what it would be with him and he would always have it. That it was the only thing he had. It was a bouquet of memories, each with different emotions, feelings that he no longer had.

The city was one big reminder. It dredged up disgusting things, from the dirty sewers of his mind. Horrible, horrible things. Reminding him of…Yuuki, years ago, and her death. Reminding him that was all he had had. Fragments of hope and love and lust that were now gone. And he had done it. He had fucking killed her.

_It_ had killed her, he reminded himself. It wasn't him. That _thing _wasn't him. It was the bloodlust had killed her. It played in his head a million, trillion times until that was the only thought remaining in his mind. Yuuki, naked and screaming and covered in blood, crying out for it, for him to leave. He had torn her throat out and strewn her body all across the room, like some sort of crazed animal, seeking solace in the kill. Ichiru had come home to a furious monster hovering over a half-eaten bloody carcass. And he had screamed. Loud.

Sometimes that was what Zero thought had started this illness. Ichiru's illness. He was almost sure it was. Right after her death, the attacks…his brother's heart attacks started. They were like nothing the doctors had seen before. Some strange cancerous, plague-like entity that was determined to kill Ichiru at the first chance it got. And it almost did. 'It's like all the worst diseases you could get rolled into one,' the doctor had told him. 'It's like cancer and AIDS mixed together and then blended with some sort of virus…'

Zero had known right then and there that his brother was going to die.

He had had hope, in the beginning. He'd gone to church and prayed, researched all he could about diseases like Ichiru's; even at one point put up a website and started a sort of makeshift charity… But it was all in vain.

At first, people were concerned. They cared. But the years ticked by and no one seemed to care anymore. The extra money he'd been earning at work to pay for the experimental treatments slowly got smaller and smaller. His boss stopped letting him off for late-night hospital runs. Bit by bit, life got harder and harder. Zero took up another job. And another. And another. A waiter at a small café, a chauffeur on the weekends. Anything for money. Anything at all. Stripping. And that's where he was going now.

He'd started as a bartender at the Xtacy, serving drinks to the patrons of the club. It was just another side job, something to bring in a few more bucks to pay for Ichiru's medicine. And then…it turned into something more.

Zero couldn't be exactly certain how it happened. The past few years had been a whirlwind. A spiral of bad luck and unfortunate circumstances. Yuuki's death, Ichiru's illness, losing his job…and suddenly he found himself applying for a job as a stripper. He really couldn't blame himself. The pay was minimum wage, but the tips you made were outrageous. Simply _outrageous_. Four hundred dollars a night was definitely something Zero could live with. He didn't hate the dancing as much as he thought he would. It was like a huge game of dress-up, getting all fancied up in makeup and those extravagant outfits. He just acted like he was having a good time and they paid him all the money they had.

It was as simple as that.

**KANAME** looked down upon the chess board, trying to calculate how long it would take him and Aidou to finally finish the game. It had been almost two hours and thanks to Aidou's absentmindedness, he was winning. It was really, truly infuriating; playing with someone who let you win. He could see five possible ways that Aidou could checkmate black and he wasn't taking any one of those ways. Ignorant noble.

Sighing, he placed his chin in his hands, waiting for Aidou to make another stupid move. The noble moved his rook directly in front of Kaname's pawn. Kaname rolled his eyes and ran a hair through his hair. He jumped the rook and added to the side of the board; sighing again, he put his head down to rest. Aidou advanced one of his pieces and Kaname's heart leapt in anxiety as he realized that his queen was in danger of being overtaken.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Ichijo asked abruptly, smiling at him softly from behind his manga.

"I'm not exactly sure…" He spoke, stretching his arm out across the board to defend his queen. "Probably play chess with Aidou or whatever I can manage."

"We should go out," he said, putting down the book and taking out his phone. "There are some _amazing _places around here that definitely deserve our attention."

"Now?" Kaname asked. "It's almost nine o'clock. I don't think anything will be open…"

"We're in the city that never sleeps, Kaname," he smiled.

"Well, I suppose so…"

"You're getting married in two days, Kaname. I think you deserve a little fun." Aidou flashed a little smile at Ichijo as he got up.

"Just let me finish this game. Then we can go." He went to move his piece when it suddenly hit him.

"Checkmate, Kaname," Aidou laughed. He pushed in his chair and smirked.

"What? How could you have…?"

"That's not the only surprise tonight," he laughed. "I promise."

IT WAS just after nine when Zero reached the club. It was peak time for Monday; and the amount of customers proved it. Huge packs of them pushed through the doors; flashing their gold passes arrogantly as they made their way into the colourful lights and magic of the club.

Xtacy was one of the most elite clubs in New York, and it required an expensive pass just to make it through the doors. The owner discouraged bringing in regular customers that you would usually get in New York; and only the most privileged made their way in. The whole club was very discreet; a squat little building in a reserved black – no signage, nothing except the trademark curled 'X' etched in gold above the doors. It was so hidden, that sometimes Zero himself had a hard time finding it when the music wasn't playing. But not tonight. Tonight was New Year's Eve and they were blasting the music away.

He shut the trunk and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, fishing out his own pass from his pocket. He showed it to the bouncer outside the club and slowly made his way in.

The lights blinded him the second he opened the door. The first level was absolutely packed. There were people everywhere; tightly squashed into every single inch of space, dancing and jumping to the electric beats booming from the speakers above them. There weren't any strippers here, just a bar and a dance floor; but drinks and music in a fancy club were enough to send people from all over New York here.

The more suggestive part of Xtacy was down on the second floor. Most people didn't even know that it was there. A tiny set of metal stairs hidden in the east end of the building led there; you had to push your way through the stifling noise and trip down the hidden stairs to the strippers. And that's exactly what Zero was going to do.

You could barely hear the people's complaints as he shoved past them; the booming music completely crushing any other sound made. From the outside you could hardly hear it, but from within the club, the whole of Xtacy seemed to _radiate _noise. There was this shimmering vapour of sound rushing all around; pounding and humming and thumping – almost like it was alive. And in a way, it was.

Zero loved the noise of the club. It comforted him. Even when he was far away, he could still hear it in the echoes of his mind, like some forgotten memory. When he was with it, it pounded in every vein of him, and when he was not, he wanted it there. It was a perfect complement to him; his heartbeat and the club's in perfect tandem. They worked together; an unspoken pact of calming words dancing within every note; he danced, the music played, money was earned. It was as simple as that.

That's all it was, anyway. Money. 'Money drives this place,' the owner had told them. 'If you're not making money, then you don't belong here.' Zero couldn't count the number of times he'd almost killed someone over a broken heel or a stolen bottle of mascara. Every little detail mattered here, and just one thing off could ruin your whole night.

Zero dropped his duffel bag on the ground; searching for the keys to his dressing room. Well, not exactly his. He wasn't lucky to have his own dressing room; he had to share one with someone else, which wasn't all so bad in itself anyways. At least he had a dressing room. It was actually quite nicely decked out; complete with a marble vanity, full length mirror, makeup mirror and a closet. Which he would have used, if his 'room-mate' hadn't taken all the space in it with all his stupid outfits. Fucking cunt.

Here he was now.

"Oh. My. God!" He sighed dramatically. "Traffic was being a total bitch all the way here and I thought I was going to be late and then I had to park my car outside a Starbucks and _run _all the way here and I thought I was going to be late and oh my God …"

"Do you have the keys?" Zero growled.

"Yes, but I wasn't done with my story…"

"Just unlock the fucking door already!"

"I see kitty has claws," he pouted jokingly. He opened the door and made his way in. Zero picked up his duffle and followed him, plopping it down next to the vanity with his name on it. Well not his name. His stripper name. Fucking manager wanted to be artsy or something.

Zero unzipped the big black bag and pulled out his makeup case. It was a simple black zip-up pencil case; like the duffel. He might have been a stripper, but he was definitely_ not _a woman. Usually he would do his makeup last, but he didn't want to waste time with non-necessities and he was sure he could pull on the outfit without smudging anything. He slowly unzipped the case and poured the contents on the vanity counter.

Dancers at Xtacy were all expected to wear makeup, no matter how beautiful they were. Zero liked putting it on; but not in the way that most people did. He didn't like it for its beautifying qualities; more it's covering up qualities. He could hide from the world behind the made up mask he wore every night. They would never see who he really was here; and that was the way he preferred it.

Zero finished applying the makeup and rummaged through the duffel bag for an outfit. Tonight was New Year's Eve and he wanted to wear something extra flashy. There'd be a lot of other people on stage with him, and he wanted to catch the customer's eyes.

He chose one of his oldest costumes; a pair of extra-short silver shorts and a tight see-through tank-top dotted with silver sequins. It was one of the only garments that actually allowed him to move - which was exactly what he needed to do on stage. God, knew how many times he had pulled a muscle trying to dance in stilettos and some leather get-up.

He pulled out the matching heels and set them on the counter next to his outfit. He wouldn't have worn them, but it was the norm for all dancers at Xtacy; male or female. And he almost liked them. They elongated his masculine legs and in a weird sort of way; helped him dance. It was much easier to be lithe when you had 'longer' legs.

Fuck. He had to get going.

Zero gathered up his clothes and started to undress; almost forgetting that Tristan was there with him.

"Can you just leave for a second while I get dressed?"

"Why?" he frowned. "I still have to put on all this bronzer and…"

"My first set is in ten minutes," Zero said. "When do you start?"

"Ten minutes."

"Fuck."

"What?"

"I don't want to change with you here."

"Oh well," he sighed.

"Change in the closet and then I can change in here."

"I just came out of the closet. There's no way I'm going back in."

"Just do it."

"Fine," he said. "It's full of clothes."

"It wouldn't be if you didn't put them there in the first place," Zero growled.

"Just change here. I won't look," he smirked.

"Fine."

Zero quickly stepped out of his clothes, his back facing the other man. He carefully pulled the tank top over his head; making an effort not to smudge any of his make-up. He slowly pulled on the shorts, trying not to rip them as he pulled them up his legs. Fuck. He should have put oil on them before he tried to pull on these damn…

"Your ass looks amazing in those," a confident voice said from across the room.

"I thought you said you _weren't_ looking!" Zero yelled, turning around; his shorts half on one hip and half off the other.

"I wasn't!" He said innocently. He turned back to his makeup counter and starting applying bronzer to his bare chest, the gold colour shining in the dim lights of the dressing room. He really was beautiful. Damn annoying; but so beautiful.

"Tristan," Zero said cautiously, "you were watching, weren't you?"

"What? No…"

"It's fine," he said, sort of uncomfortably. He did mind, but truth be told, he was developing a sort of schoolboy crush on his dressing room partner…

"What?"

"I can see…you like me…and…I like you too…" Zero's voice was unsteady.

"Really?" He frowned. "I would have never thought."

"So admit it…you were looking."

"I just noticed…what trouble you were having…" He stood up and began walking slowly towards Zero, his voice suddenly changing from the plea of earlier to a sultry, breathy whisper.

"And...?" Zero asked quietly.

"All the trouble you were having…putting them on…and I decided…I should come…help." He slowly ran his hands over the back of Zero's thighs, making his way up to the hem of his shorts; lifting them up over Zero's hips with a satisfying snap.

"Much better," he soothed, resting his chin over Zero's shoulder and encircling his arms around the other man's waist.

Zero could feel himself blushing as Tristan moved to press himself further into him. The ridges of his upper body moulded into his finely muscled back, creating a perfect mingling of skin.

"I fucking love you," he whispered, his hot breath tingling on Zero's exposed neck.

"Fuck off…" Zero began, but the anger in his voice was lost as a pair of perfect pink lips met his in a desperate kiss.

Tristan slid his hands up into the other's silver hair, tangling his long fingers in the silky strands; intensifying the kiss as he slowly slid his tongue into the other man's mouth. Zero's heart beat a million times a minute. He could slowly feel himself becoming more and more aroused as the other stripper's attentions became more and more sensual. God, he was good.

"Shit…" Zero said breathily, breaking away.

"I want to fuck you so bad…"

"We don't have time."

"Play before work," he winked, "is the best way to get a job done."

"I'll meet you here before closing."

"Fabulous."

_Reviews are, as always are very much appreciated!_

_Thank you to my beta-reader XxDreamingOfRealityxX. If you're currently looking for a beta; I whole-heartedly recommend her! _

_Note – I am really not trying to offend any religious group with this piece. I know that not all Muslims are terrorists, and I wasn't trying to say that with this story._

_Thank you to lightpathetic and her story, 'A Place for Us' for inspiring me to write again! A little nod to her with the name Arundhati; which she uses in her story. Also, thank you to Kagamichihime's Blood, Ink and Ecstasy for the inspiration to write this. _

_Disclaimer – I do not own Vampire Knight. Arundhati is the only character I own._


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